Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Threesome, Kidnapping, Threats, Self-Harm, Attempted Suicide, etc.

Roman and Dean shared a look, a silent conversation transpiring between them. Dean sucked in a harsh breath, Ryback's last words resounding loud and clear within his head, before he motioned for Roman to dispose of the body. Roman dropped Ryback on the ground, watching him roll onto his side and finally land on his stomach. After that, he was absolutely motionless. Normally, Dean would have worried about lasting damage to Ryback's body, but there was no time for that. Right now, Seth was first and foremost.

Roman stared down at Ryback's unconscious body, a haunted look in his eyes. Even without touching him, he could read the tension radiating off of him in waves. Also, there was sick look in his eyes. He could tell that Roman was stressed, confused… he didn't really know the right word for it. All he knew was that Roman was hurt and, most likely, Ryback had something to do with it. That thought alone made him want to tear into Ryback again, but that would have to wait. Seth first, and then, if Ryback was still around… well, Dean sincerely hoped he wasn't.

Roman tore his gaze away with as much force as he could muster, attempting to dampen the haunted look in his eyes with a look of frustration and anger instead. He stormed off down the hallway, throwing doors open left and right, attempting to locate their two-toned counterpart. He couldn't kill himself. He just couldn't. The Shield was a three-man group. They played off each other perfectly. Never before had the WWE Universe seen a threesome that could work so well together and blend their personalities so flawlessly. It wouldn't work with just two of them.

Before he even knew what was happening, he found Seth's name tumbling from his mouth. Over and over again, the haunting mantra filled the abandoned hallways behind the arena. It didn't surprise either of them that they never received a response. If Seth was in such terrible condition that he was contemplating suicide, he wouldn't exactly be jumping at the chance for his two lovers, who had turned their backs on him, to track him down. No, that would be foolish. He would want it over as soon as possible, which was why they had to hurry.

"Where the hell could he be?" Dean fumed, attempting to clean up the messy trail that Roman was leaving behind. While he doubted that Ryback would press charges (he had a tiny ounce of brain power, at the least), he didn't want to deal with a harassment suit.

"If I knew, do you think that I would be wasting my time searching through every fucking locker room that we come across?" Roman shot back at him. That tension was back, even though the Samoan did his best to hide it. Dean could read him like a book.

"Is there something that you wanna talk to me about, Roman?" He asked softly, tentatively broaching the subject.

Roman turned and looked at him only once, the answer clearly written in his chocolate eyes. "Haven't we been over this? That would be no."

But Dean wouldn't let the conversation drop so easily. "Roman, don't lie to me." Dean said. "We need to be unified, now more than ever."

Roman clenched his hands into fists at his sides, his eyes narrowed into slits. "Even if something did happen, I'm not even sure that… sure that I could tell you about it." Roman shrugged. "It doesn't matter, anyhow. Seth is what matters."

Dean still wasn't convinced. He could see it in Roman's eyes. There was more to this story. "Just answer this – yes or no?"

Roman swallowed hard, allowing a beat to pass before finally answering, "Yes."

Dean felt the blood boil like molten lava in his veins. He couldn't believe that that bastard had put his hands on Roman – and an injured Roman, no less. He was absolutely disgusted. It wasn't only that Roman had been abused, but that was a great deal of it, but also that Ryback had injured two of his lovers and Dean couldn't do anything to change that. Dean wanted to go back there and personally tear Ryback a new one, but he refrained – if only just barely. But as he watched Roman slowly crumble, the need became that much stronger.

Roman started to storm down the hallway again, his efforts renewed. He stared into the barren rooms, their chances of finding Seth alive decreasing steadily with every room that they stumbled upon that was deserted. Suddenly, an idea came to him. It was a horrible, grisly idea… and yet, Seth was unpredictable in a sort of grisly way. It was so like him, it was a wonder how they hadn't thought of it sooner. Roman turned on his heel, breaking into a jog. Dean followed close behind, retracing their steps all the way to the beginning.

"It's so stupid! Why didn't I think of it sooner?" Dean mumbled to himself. "The bathroom, Roman. The bathroom!"

"If he does what I think he plans too, then the shower would be a perfect cover. Nobody would find the mess. He wouldn't cause anyone anymore trouble…" Roman trailed off sullenly.

Dean finally caught up to Roman, before he shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. "You don't think that he's already…"

"No." Roman said firmly. "I don't. I refuse to think that. He's fine. He's gonna be fine. And if he's not…"

Dean shot a look down the abandoned hallway where Ryback's body had once lain, knowing exactly what Roman meant without the bigger man having to voice it. "We know who to hurt."

"How do you feel, baby?" Chris asked, watching as Phil stumbled into their locker room. He was holding onto his stomach tightly, crimson red blood dotting the bandages that wrapped around his stomach.

"I feel like shit. I think… I think that I need to sit down." Chris was at his side in an instant, taking hold of his arm and leading him over to the couch. He wrapped his torso in a towel so he wouldn't bleed onto the fabric. "I think I tore my stitches."

"Think? Baby, I know that you tore your stitches. Look at you! You look like you just came back from a war zone." Chris fussed over him. "Let me go get a washcloth and I'll clean you up, then I'll take you to the trainer so that he can look you over."

Phil allowed his eyes to flutter closed, a ghost of a smile dancing across his face when Chris kissed his forehead. "Okay."

Chris walked into the adjoining bathroom and wet a washcloth, before he returned, kneeling down at his lover's side and dabbing at the bloody wound with the cool cloth. Gently, with his other hand, he peeled the bandages away from Phil's wound and cleaned it up as best he could. Phil was severely wounded – he had been shot, after all. But the trainer had cleared him to wrestle (the stitches were almost healed and all that), so he had gone out there and contested a hard match with the Undertaker. For a while, Chris agreed he was absolutely fine.

But then, he had seen Phil make a foolish move that had most likely cost him the match, and his stitches. He had jumped off of the top rope and onto the announce table, meaning to put an elbow through the heart of the Undertaker. Instead, the Undertaker moved just enough to the side to have Phil catch his ribs on the hard side of the table. It collapsed under both of their weight and Phil's stitches had burst, blood flowing freely over his pale, tattooed skin. It had been awful. Mark had ended the match quickly after that.

"Do you think that you can even walk back to the trainer's room?" Chris asked, watching as Phil flinched as he caught the edge of a bloody, ragged wound. Phil was just a mess.

"I'm not sure." Phil slurred. He allowed his eyes to fall closed and his head to loll to the side. Chris smacked his face with the clean part of the washcloth. "I'm awake. I'm awake."

Chris sighed. "Baby, if you can't make it to the trainer's room, then you'll need to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance. I can't… I can't risk losing you a second time. I wasn't there for you the first time, but I can be there for you now."

Phil swallowed hard, his throat raw and dry. "That wasn't your fault, Chrissy."

"You can say that all you want." Chris said. "I'll tell you when I start to believe you."

Phil couldn't answer. Chris wasn't sure if it was because of the fact that he had passed out, or he just didn't have anything to say. Quickly, he finished cleaning up the wound, wanting to make sure that there wouldn't be any blood stains left behind. It wouldn't do to make it seem as if a murder had transpired in their locker room, after all. Then, he stretched his arms out and carefully shifted Phil into his embrace. He would take Phil there in his arms, and make sure that he was taken care of. He wouldn't let him down a second time.

"You're gonna be okay, baby. You're gonna be just fine…" Chris trailed sweetly, before starting toward the trainer's room.

Seth's eyes were glazed over as he stared into nothingness, the shower stall glazed over in crystalline colors. He sat in his full wrestling attire, the ice-cold water splashing over his body and soaking his clothes straight through. He didn't care. He couldn't feel it anymore. His injured arm lay on the shower floor, blood spilling from the wound at an alarming rate. It flowed down the drain, carried by the water, with startling ease. It would only be a matter of time now, and then, it would all be over.

The door burst open and Dean and Roman stormed through. Within seconds of their arrival, Seth's broken body became visible to them. "Seth!" And then it all went black.